


make this chaos count

by shafferthefirst



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Unintentional Temporary Co-Parenting, baby fic (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafferthefirst/pseuds/shafferthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Simmons?”</p><p>“Yes, sir?”</p><p>“Any thoughts on kids?”</p><p>“Um. Beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Great. You’re on babysitting duty. Meet me on the landing strip in fifteen.”</p><p>-</p><p>Or, in which an inhuman finding causes things to get particularly domestic at the playground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make this chaos count

**Author's Note:**

> I have no regrets whatsoever in the making of this piece of crack.
> 
> a special thank you to both cindy and laura for cheerleading and betaing and encouraging/yelling at me to finish this! y'all are actually the sweetest peaches and I do not deserve your caps locks. <3
> 
> title is from jupiter by sleeping at last (because apparently I don't know how to not name my fics after his songs anymore)
> 
> enjoy!

“Simmons?” Coulson’s voice crackles into her comms as she rearranges the post-it notes surrounding her monitor.

“Yes, sir?”

“Any thoughts on kids?”

“Um.” She nearly chokes. “Beg your pardon?”

“Great. You’re on babysitting duty. Meet me on the landing strip in fifteen.”

-

-

In fifteen minutes’ time, Jemma has concocted at least twelve scenarios as to what he could  _ possibly  _ mean by that.

However, none of them involve her boss descending the loading dock with an infant strapped to his chest and a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, both of which he passes to her immediately.

May’s wiping the ends of her dark locks on her leather jacket as she passes. “Fair warning,” she says, “he likes hair.” The baby reaches for Jemma’s own strands and pulls a handful into his mouth as if on cue, drooling a little on her shoulder.

Well, then.

-

-

After things settle, or as remotely close to settle as a secret government organization can get, Coulson finally briefs her with answers to her questions such as  _ what did you find on the mission, _ or  _ is there anything I should be doing in the lab regarding it _ , or perhaps  _ whose child did you kidnap and why am I taking care of it. _

Not that she minds. He’s actually rather cute all cuddled up to her chest and making soft sounds to himself like that, but anyhow.

His name is Avery. He’s around eight months old, and his mother unexpectedly went through terrigenesis this morning due to a handy little fish oil pill she’d taken, a small change in her morning routine of getting ready for work and dropping her son off at daycare. The team found the single mother on the radar, tiny apartment littered in her shattered chrysalis and furniture and glass in shambles.

“Jamie Waldrop, twenty-three, super strength,” Coulson explains. “She doesn’t have control over it, not yet anyway. When she wasn’t able to pick up anything around her without crushing it entirely…” he nods sympathetically to little Avery in her arms.  _ Oh. _ Jemma thumbs over his thin hair instinctively. “She says she has no immediate family, so I thought it would be best to keep him here. Just until Miss Waldrop gets a hold on her new powers. Think you can handle it?”

Jemma peers down to where the little thing has nodded off against her shoulder, a grin blooming into existence on her face.

_ “Surely _ he won’t be too difficult, right?”

-

-

“Think you bought enough supplies?!”

“Well the matching changing station wouldn’t fit in the cart, so I could have done worse.”

_ “Phil.” _

-

-

Her theory proves to be probable as he naps in her arms for an impressive amount of time, the spontaneous field trip away from home seemed to wear him out. Avery snoozes contently while Jemma skims over the blood analysis and vitals of his mother on her tablet, which a lab tech had brought her but not without receiving a very murderous glare from the co-head of the science division for making her entrance too loud, causing the baby to stir.

So, she sits curled up on the lounge sofa in silence with occasional rocking until a weight lifts from the crook of her neck and suddenly bright eyes are boring right into hers.

“Why, hello there,” she says softly, laying the tablet down beside them and turning her full attention to the puzzled child leaning back in her arms. “Have a nice nap, did we?”

Furrowing his brows, Avery purses his lips and then starts to wail, loudly and directly into her ear.

Jemma huffs. She’d figured he would not react well to being separated from his mother, as traumatic as their morning had been, probably forgetting about their encounter an hour ago, but… well, she’s not exactly sure what she expected. It’s been a while since the last time she held a baby; even then it was only for a short time if she recalls correctly. She sighs.

-

-

“Hell, doesn’t he have a mute button?”

“I suppose you must have one as well, in that case?”

“Point taken.”

-

-

After half an hour of pacing the halls and murmuring nonsense in the unsuccessful attempt to quiet him, a possibly heavy factor in his state of distress belatedly dawns on her. One that would be deserving of a smack on her own forehead if her hands weren’t full of a fussy Avery wiggling in her grasp.

“Oh, of course!” Jemma coos at him. “Poor thing, you  _ must _ be starving, I’m so sorry. Let’s remedy that, hm?” She swoops him onto her hip and searches the refrigerator for the bottle May mentioned she had placed there.

She sighs in relief at the precious silence, save Avery’s quiet suckling, once she’s warmed and tested the bottle and offered it to his plump lips. He’d accepted it greedily, even batting her hand away and insisting on holding it himself.

“Suit yourself,” she mumbles, smoothing down his black hair. Avery studies her intently as he downs the bottle until it’s empty. She pries it from his mouth and pats him lightly on the back. “Not so bad now, huh? See? No need for a fuss.”

He blinks, and burps in her face. Jemma scrunches her nose and chuckles. “That too, I guess.”

-

-

“Yes his giggle is highly contagious but Mack I just fed him; I wouldn’t recommend boun— _ oh _ , dear. I hope those scraps weren’t important! Wet wipe?”

-

-

Fitz stumbles down the Quinjet ramp with a severely bruised side, a cut on his cheek, and a ringing in his ears he can’t seem to shake. He’s a little dizzy too.

_ “Non-threatening op, my arse,” _ he grumbles under his breath. Daisy winces sympathetically as she passes him.

“On the bright side,” she winks, “I’m sure Simmons’ll take  _ good _ care of you.”

Bobbi glances back from where she’s ahead of them to watch redness bloom to the tips of his ears before turning around, and her eyes widen in shock at the sight.  _ “Well. _ You might just have to fight for that attention there, lover boy.”

Daisy chokes when she realizes what she’s talking about, and they both darts off before Fitz can get an explanation out of them. He looks up to find his girlfriend approaching him quickly, amazingly balancing a first aid kit, a roll of bandage wrap, plastic keys, a wiggling infant, and a water bottle, and he grins weakly at her, about to tell her not to make a fuss and that he’s  _ fine _ and—wait a minute.

“Um,” Fitz’s voice cracks, “what— _ hmphf.” _ Somehow she still manages to pull him by the back of his neck into a kiss that warms him to his toes. He’s too shocked to even close his eyes. “Uh.”

“What part of  _ be careful _ do you not understand!” Jemma scolds, thumbing along the fresh cut on his face and he winces. She starts rambling on, more to herself than anything, and his gaze falls on the baby staring curiously at him from his spot on her hip, little fingers woven uncoordinatedly into her low ponytail.

“Uh, Jem?”

“Yeah?”

He points back and forth between the two of them, struggling for words, and she lets out a small  _ oh,  _ like she’s just remembered it’s there, like it’s been there for so long she has grown used to it enough to forget about it.

“Now I know this mission took longer than expected,” Fitz utters, “but I swear it wasn’t  _ that _ long.”

-

-

“God,  _ Fitz! _ ”

 

“What?”

 

“A little warning next time would be nice!”

“What are you talking about? That wasn’t me!”

“Well if it’s not you… _ shit.” _

“Um.  _ Literally.” _

“Ugh.”

-

-

 

By serious trial and error, Jemma manages to successfully put him down to sleep in the playpen Coulson had moved to their room (amongst everything else he could possibly find at Babies R Us, evidently). She sighs, relieved, and quietly climbs into bed with Fitz. He pulls the covers up around the both of them.

 

“God, it’s  _ so _ quiet,” he whispers. Jemma elbows him in the rib, harshly demanding he speak even quieter. 

 

“Not for long if you don’t lower your voice,” she practically mouths. She might be overdoing it, but how should she know if Avery is a light or heavy sleeper after only a day? She also wonders what his mother might be thinking. On her own for this long, today might be the longest Jamie has gone without him.

 

“What’s wrong?” Fitz murmurs.

 

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”

 

He frowns into her hair, lifts her face up from where it’s resting on his shoulder to look at her. “You’re thinking so hard you’re bound to burn a hole in my chest. And as cool as being like Iron Man would be, I think I’ll pass. C’mon, tell me.”

 

“I’m worried about his mum,” she echoes her thoughts. “I can’t  _ imagine _ how she must be feeling right now. One day, everything is normal and the next...she has these unexplainable  _ powers _ and she can’t even hold her own son without the risk of hurting him. It’s awful, Fitz.”

 

Holding her tighter, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. “It  _ is _ awful, but it’s only temporary. As soon as she gets a hold on things, they’ll be reunited and she’ll be the coolest mum ever when he’s old enough to understand.” He pokes at her side when she giggles, basking in the sound of it. “Bet she could even pick up the whole school bus on a good day.”

 

But her laughter is just a  _ tiny _ bit too loud, and within seconds, the room is filled with wailing all over again. Jemma groans, pulling the covers over her head completely.

 

“I’ll get him this time, okay?” Fitz kisses the lump of blanket he’s assuming is the top of her head and she grumbles something too muffled to decipher as he slides out from beneath her. 

 

She hides in the softness for a few more minutes until the crying stops, and she suddenly feels an odd weight placed at her side when she hears Fitz settling back in bed. She peeks with one eye to find Avery staring back at her from between them, yawning. Peering up at her boyfriend, she raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

 

“We’re all tired,” he shrugs. “Might as well be tired together.” He lays his head back on the pillow, giving the baby one of his hands to fiddle with. Jemma scoots back some and lowers her blanket force field to run her fingers over his tummy soothingly. 

 

“It’s only temporary,” she reminds him.

 

-

-

 

“How’s my baby? Is he alright?”

 

“He’s in good hands, I can assure you.”

 

“You’re  _ sure _ he’s safe?”

 

“I don’t have kids. But if I did, out of everyone I have ever met, the person your baby is with is the first I would put them in the care of.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“Because she’s been to hell and back and lived to tell the tale, and nearly gave her life for her team more times than I can count. And she still has the most innocent smile I’ve ever seen.”

 

“I think I can live with that.”

 

-

-

 

Days pass quickly, and somehow most of the base has shifted into routine without even realizing it. Jemma and Fitz alternate rising at the crack of dawn to tend to Avery’s early morning shrieking, feed him, try to be relatively productive in their actual jobs by handing off the baby bjorn to whichever isn’t needed at the moment in passing, possibly give him to another teammate for ten minutes at a time just to take a breather, and sleep. Maybe. That usually ends the same way every night, the pair giving in and settling the baby between them while they caress and murmur softly to him for hours.

 

The team is as helpful as they can be, completely adjusted to the sight of an infant being carried around at any given time and offering their two cents as they stumble their way through temporary co-parenthood. Fitz is constantly finding baby toys in his cardigan pockets and under his pillow. Jemma is never seen without a modified baby monitor sticking out of her back pocket and can seemingly pull a wet wipe out of thin air should the situation call for it. It’s weird, but somehow, it’s all suiting.

 

“You two are really getting into this whole domesticity thing, huh?” Bobbi says with a smirk on the eighth day as they sit on the couch, Jemma playing with Avery’s toes after Fitz had deposited him to her lap. She’d kissed his cheek before he dashed off to assist Coulson and was left with a giddy smile.

 

Jemma laughs a little too hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’re just following orders.” She chuckles more to herself than anything and mindlessly makes faces at the baby in her lap.

 

“No,” she corrects,  _ “you’re _ following orders.  _ He’s _ so stupid in love that he’s taking half your shift.”

 

“You’re just ridiculous.”

 

“Maybe, but you know I’m right.” She watches the two of them for a moment, how exhausted but content Jemma looks, and grins. “Plus, I’m sure watching you play with a baby isn’t the worst part of his job either.”

 

She squints, blushing. “And whatever do you mean by that?”   
  


“Nothing. You just look good with a baby.”

 

It’s an offhand comment, but it makes her smile radiantly nonetheless. 

 

“Thanks, Bobbi. And you know what I think?”

 

Her voice has gone sweet. Sickly sweet.

 

“What.”

 

“I think,” Jemma turns Avery around in her arms smoothly, and places him in her friend’s lap, “a baby would look  _ spectacular _ with your outfit today. And a nice, hot, longer-than-five-minute shower while he’s not fussy sounds spectacular too. Magnificent, if you will.” She’s off the couch and scampering out before she can even think to argue. “Thanks, Bobbi!”

 

“I… well, okay.” Bobbi glances down at him, and he up at her. “Guess it’s just you and me then, squirt.”

 

And then he’s crying.

 

_ Traitor. _

 

“Oh, no no no… crap.” She pulls him up with her and bounces him gently, which doesn’t help at all. “Hey! You look  _ really _ good with a baby right!  _ Really _ good!” She glances out in the hall but his primary caretaker is nowhere to be found. “Jemma fucking Simmons looks  _ hot _ with a baby!”

 

-

-

 

_ “Jesus,  _ are you sure the kid’s not inhuman too? Cause there’s  _ no way _ baby teeth can be that sharp.”

 

“Don’t stick your fingers in his mouth and you won’t have that problem, then, Daisy!”

 

-

-

 

“Oh, thank god, you have him!” Fitz breathes as he enters, exhaling for the first time in probably thirty minutes. “He’s been passed around so much today there’s no telling where he is. Jemma’s tearing the base apart looking for him.”

 

“She’s a worrier,” May says. She pulls her hair out of Avery’s mouth and he babbles at her, offended. “But it’s a big base; I don’t blame her.”

 

Fitz isn’t sure what to make of Melinda May with a baby strapped to her chest. It’s strange, but it doesn’t exactly look unnatural, and she herself looks quite serene. Apparently Avery had behaved himself well enough during her tai chi session. Or maybe it was just for the purpose of entertaining him. He can’t be sure.

 

“It soothes him,” she offers for explanation, evidently reading his face. He can’t help but grin. Because of course she would take the time to help with the baby that isn’t even theirs. Any of them would, even if it was. 

 

“I’ll take him now, if you want.”

 

“No,” she just says. “That’s alright.”

 

He grins again.

 

-

-

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“My  _ best.” _

 

_ “Simmons.” _

 

“He just. He won’t stop crying. Not tonight, anyway. I don’t know how to help him. I think he misses his mum.”

 

“Jemma, look at me. You’re doing great, you know that right?”

 

“I…”

 

“You’re doing great. It’s not up for debate.”

 

“Thank you, May.”

 

“Go back to bed. He’ll quiet down, I promise.”

 

-

-

 

Jemma’s attempting to feed Avery something she claims is  _ completely organic _ and  _ full of nutrients for a growing baby _ — but absolutely looks like a bowl of pureed Sesame Street characters — when Hunter decides to make himself known.

 

“Hey princess,” he nods in her direction, then at the squirming baby. “And toad.”

 

She grimaces. “I’ve asked you not to call me that. Several times.”

 

“And I have assured you that I don’t listen. Several times.” She rolls her eyes but he doesn’t miss the faint grin she tries to fight. Raising the spoon again, she opens her mouth and murmurs encouraging high-pitched words and noises to coax Avery into doing the same, which he’s not in the mood for, evidently. Jemma huffs in frustration before scooping up more and trying again. It’s a highly amusing process from where Lance is standing.

 

“Have you tried the plane method? I’ve heard it does wonders.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Here, lemme try,” he offers. “That tea you abandoned on the counter looks rather lonely. Be a shame to waste it, yeah?”

 

Defeated, Jemma stands from where she’s been kneeling to give him the space. “If you’re looking for disappointment, be my guest.” She yawns and reaches for her mug.

 

Lance hops into the spot in front of Avery, who is currently trying to reach his firetruck-patterned socks to peel them off and failing miserably with the high chair table in the way. “Okay, rugrat, let’s not be a pain for Uncle Hunter, shall we?” He squares his shoulders, squints, and lifts the little blue spoon. Avery peers up at him, curious about his next move.  _ “Heeeere _ comes the airplaaane! C’mon! Make some room for landing in that big mouth of yours!” 

 

He blows raspberries and nods encouragingly, and it’s apparently entertaining enough for the baby to follow through with his request, accepting the mushy concoction.

 

Lance throws his fist in the air and  _ whoops _ triumphantly. “What’d I tell you, princess? Works every time!” He offers his open palm in her direction for a high five, but Jemma frowns, studying the situation intently. Before he can gloat any more, Avery makes the decision to follow after Uncle Hunter even more, spitting and spraying his face with a mouthful of baby food and shrieking.

 

Nearly losing her tea in the process, Jemma laughs so hard she doubles over while Hunter is frozen dead where he squats. He blinks slowly, licks at the corner of his mouth.

 

“For the record,” he deadpans, “that is dreadful. No wonder he’s refusing to touch it with a ten meter pole.”

 

As if on cue, the baby reaches Lance’s unmoving face with his sticky little hand and brings it back to his mouth, eating the residue of his mess without complaint. Jemma laughs even harder.

 

Now he  _ really _ can’t hold back his own chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

 

“What can I say? Works every time.”

 

-

-

 

“What’s that look for? Google says sitting on the dryer is really soothing, so I’m just amping up his bouncer with my — just a little bit! Totally safe, and he likes it! Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as  _ Quaken  _ Baby Syndrome.”

 

-

-

 

Jemma grins widely from her spot on the floor against the bed, legs spread out in front of her on the fleece baby blanket while Fitz holds Avery high over his face and brings him down for kisses between little shrieks of laughter and she can’t help but marvel at how natural they look in this role. Bobbi was clearly right about the domesticity getting to her, but she also can’t bring herself to care. 

 

“Okay, little one, that’s enough,” Fitz laughs. “If you want my arms to function properly tomorrow, that is, ‘cause they’re starting to feel a bit like jelly.” He drops a kiss onto his forehead before laying him down on the blanket, handing him a soft toy and leaning back next to Jemma. “Kid’s wearing me out.”

 

“Me too,” she says.

 

“At least Yo-Yo is the fastest diaper changer in human history. Or inhuman history, for that matter.”

 

“True,” she laughs, “but we’re pretty good at it ourselves.”

 

“We make a good team, you know.” He smiles.

 

“So we’ve been told.”

 

They sit in comfortable silence, save the baby’s soft little noises to himself, and she lifts his arm and scoots closer to drape it around her, kisses his jaw. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

 

“Yeah, I’m told I’m a pretty good cuddler.” She elbows him. He pecks her forehead. She chuckles.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He watches Jemma watch Avery, that absentminded smile faded into her sleepy face. It’s mesmerizing. “Do you ever think about… well, you know…”

 

She turns to him, amused. “Trying out the real thing?” Off his nod, she grins wider. “Yeah, yeah I do. A lot more the past few weeks, granted, but…”

 

“Still.” Fitz tugs her closer, pulling her into a sweet kiss. They’ve discussed it before, the elephant in the room, not unlike many after ten months of dating and over ten years of basically dating without the label or realization. But somehow, these recent moments have made that quiet conversation behind closed doors seem that much… closer, in a way. Like that little cottage isn’t as far away as it seems to be.

 

She allows herself to get lost in the kiss, brings her hand up to thumb at his jaw. When it breaks, they rest their foreheads together and laugh lightly, savoring the sweetness of it.

 

That is, until they realize the room has gone eerily silent. Their heads snap to the now empty floor simultaneously.

 

“He was — ”

 

“How did — ”

 

“He just — ”

 

“What the — ”

 

“He’s  _ crawling??”  _ They conclude and scramble to their feet. 

 

After thirty seconds of frantically searching every nook and cranny and calling out his name, a throat clearing spins the both of them around.

 

“I picked up a little hitchhiker in the hall!” Daisy says brightly at the doorway, bouncing a happily gurgling Avery on her hip, clearly proud of his new and exciting skill.

 

Perhaps  _ their _ team could use a little help from their  _ team  _ after all.

 

_ - _

_ - _

 

“Now you, you, and you will run the samples… you two will take  _ in depth _ notes of the substance’s molecular breakdown and report them to me or Dr. Fitz, and the rest of you will clean the lab spotless when they’re done, alright?... Oh, sir? Um, what’s that look for?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just the visual of you ordering around the lab hands with a baby on your hip is both entertaining, and...kind of suiting.”

 

-

-

 

The group watches with bated breath as Jamie, who had politely refused the alias  _ Queen Kong _ from Mack, reaches for her son for the first time in over three weeks. Before, she hadn’t even wanted to see him, in fear that it would upset him even more when she was too afraid to hold him, but the moment Jemma stepped into view on the loading dock with Avery in her arms, eyes alert and chubby little arms outstretched for her and only her, the young mother couldn’t hold back anymore.

 

She nearly sobs the moment she holds him close, tears leaking from her eyes as he grabs at her pixie cut locks that had grown slightly since last time, and he coos as she kisses his face all over. 

 

“You. Were you the one taking care of him?” Jamie asks once things settle down.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t — ”

 

_ “Yes,” _ a chorus echoes behind them, and she laughs shyly.

 

“I had a little help,” she grins, “but yes.” Before she knows it, Jamie’s swept her into a hug with Avery squished between them, Jemma winces, startled, but melts into it. Avery leaves drool on her cheek.

 

“Thank you for keeping my baby safe.” She squeezes her arm.

 

“My pleasure.”

 

“So you’re  _ sure _ you don’t want to play superhero a little longer?” Daisy interjects, spoiling the moment.

 

“I’m a mom,” Jamie grins. “I’m  _ already  _ a superhero.” She turns to her little boy and kisses his nose. “Let’s go home, buddy.”

 

“Perhaps he’ll have to come back sometime for a play date!” Jemma chirps. Everyone turns to look at her and she blushes. She glances back at Fitz, who’s smiling as wide as she is.

  
  


+

  
  


_ “Fiiitz,” _ she whines breathlessly against his mouth that night behind a locked door, tugging his hand out from between her legs. “I need you.  _ Now.” _

 

Kissing her once more, he says, “I’m on it,” rolling off and reaching for the bedside drawer. 

 

She freezes, sobers up quickly. “Um, Fitz? No condom tonight.”

 

He drops the box where he stands and the packages litter the ground. “What? Why?” She gives him a pointed look as a means of an answer.  _ “Oh. _ I mean, I know we were talking about it last week but I didn’t think you meant  _ now _ , and — ”

 

She laughs out loud, covering his mouth as she sits up entirely. “No, Fitz, I mean… we  _ really _ don’t have to use one tonight.”

 

His jaw drops. “Jemma. What are you saying.”

 

Biting her lip, she tugs him back to the bed to sit next to her. “I’m saying… I had Bobbi run a blood test earlier today. And I know it’s not the greatest timing, with everything we’re doing, but — ”

 

“So when you mentioned a play date you meant…”

 

She pauses. “Fitz, what did you  _ think _ I meant?”

 

“I don’t know! Maybe having her bring him back so  _ we _ can play with him again? I don’t know.” Jemma rolls her eyes fondly at his cluelessness and kisses him, giggling against his lips. 

 

“As fun as that would be,” she admits, “I think our  _ own _ baby might enjoy it just a little bit more.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! I would love to hear your feedback! and feel free to hit my up on tumblr @ jemmaswan <3


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